The Soul of Avarice
by Robin Sparrow
Summary: A slightly MartaxGreed drabble, taking place during the original anime series. Once again, I mess with the original story... cause I can. One shot.


A one-shot drabble using Marta and Greed, taking place in the original anime series, NOT Brotherhood or the manga. This is what I WISH had happened (well, except for the fate of Loa and Dorchet), rather than what did happen. Originally I was gonna keep this to myself, but I like the ending a lot so I decided to post it after all. Enjoy :)

Why yes, I do love the idea of MartaxGreed. Why do you ask? 8D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but my undying love for Greed and FMA and Edward Elric and... (long list, please tune out now lol)

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By definition, homunculi were artificial – living dolls with human faces, but no soul. They could think for themselves, make choices, and act on those decisions, but they could not feel, they could not regret – they could not love.

Marta was not a homunculus. She had been made what she was by human hands, but she was not _created_; she was born. It was hard to remember what it had been like before, when she was _only_ human, but she knew such a time had existed – she had been just a girl, once, with parents and childhood friends and dreams. Her transformation into a chimera could not take that away from her; whatever she was now, part of her was still human – that girl from all those years ago was still there inside, for better or for worse. And that girl felt more than she cared to admit, or even acknowledge.

She was tough, or at least she pretended to be; she had to, if she wanted to make it with the rest of the gang. They were strong, maybe the strongest people she'd ever met, and that they had allowed her to stay with them at all was a debt she could never pay off, not in a thousand years. They were like a family, bonded together at first by their shared conditions – chimeras, all of them, except for one – but in time they had grown to respect, even _like_, each other, and after they had all been through, such a reliable team was worth more than could possibly be put into words.

The one exception to the rule – the unofficial leader of the group – had been an unexpected addition, but a lucky one. He was the best thing that had ever happened to them, and of all of them, no one believed this more than Marta. She had been reluctant to trust him at first, even a little resentful of his obvious hunger for power and his – well, _greed_ – but those feelings had soon been replaced with fervent loyalty and devotion.

That he was a homunculus had not been made immediately clear; he had been careful to keep the truth of his condition to himself, until he had been certain of his status as alpha dog of the pack. He had judged them well; by the time he revealed the truth to them, he had grown on them so much that it had mattered little what he said he was – he was one of them, and that was all that mattered.

And Marta, somehow, had become his top lieutenant – his right-hand gal, he often told her. She had never fawned over him, nor allowed herself any show of weakness (not without severely chastising herself for it later, at least), in front of him – but she had always done as he asked, with no questions and no complaints. She always tried her hardest, and always put the most of herself into any assignment she was given, no matter how small or insignificant the task seemed. And somehow, despite her attempts at reserve, he had noticed.

In spite of herself, she found herself watching him across the smoky atmosphere of the Devil's Nest. His sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light as he laughed, his arms slung across the back of the couch and around the shoulders of two young women, who chuckled along with him, their hair shining and their eyes sparkling. She didn't know their names, and she doubted he did either; if she had been a lesser woman, she imagined she might have been a little angry, a little envious – but Marta was better than that. She watched him and felt nothing; she heard their voices mingling together amidst the music, and saw him lean in to whisper something in one girl's ear, and she didn't care.

He was Greed, after all, and he wanted it all. It was only his nature; what else did she expect?

"Hey there, Marta." Dorchet and Loa appeared to have materialized out of nowhere on either side of her; it was difficult not to jump, but she did her best to look unperturbed. "Want a drink?"

"No thanks, Dorchet," she said, but when he offered the drink a second time, she saw he'd already gone to the trouble of getting one for each of them. Her lips pressed together tightly, she took the drink, downing half of it in a single go.

Dorchet raised an eyebrow. "Well, hell. Rough day?"

She shrugged, her eyes straying back towards Greed's direction. Loa, tilting his head back for a good long pull of his own drink, didn't notice, but Dorchet followed her gaze before she realized he had seen. He gave her a lopsided, knowing smile, and she glared at him to ensure his silence. She had never spoken a word of what was currently on her mind, but she hadn't needed to – Dorchet, somehow, had known almost before she had, and while she constantly sought to discourage him, he was a persistent bastard, and he never quite let it go. "The night is young," he said, "you shouldn't call it quits just yet. Go easy with the alcohol, there."

"Marta can take care of herself," said Loa, his deep, gravelly voice seeming to reverberate through the others' bodies. "She could probably outdrink us both, if she put her mind to it."

"I probably could," she agreed, allowing only the corners of her lips to turn up in suggestion of a smile.

"You – yeah, you're right," Dorchet sighed, and took a sip from his own glass.

Across the room, Greed stood, and the two girls rose with him, their faces flushed and their lips stretched wide in twin expressions of triumph. The victory would only last the night, of course – they knew this, but a victory was a victory, and you had to take what you could get. The trio left the club together, heading out through one of the back doors, which Marta knew for a fact led to a hallway of empty rooms, for just such a night.

The glass in her hand made an alarming, crackling sound; turning her attention back to it, she saw she had cracked it, and her drink leaked in tiny rivulets of dark red liquid through the cracks, dripping off her hand and onto the floor.

"You should have more control than that," Loa rumbled as she hastily tossed the glass away, wiping her hand on a napkin Dorchet managed to acquire for her. "It's not safe to be so reckless."

"I'm _not_ reckless!" Marta hissed, her tone angrier than she had intended. He was right, she knew; she still had a long way to go before she could honestly say she had full self-control. But it didn't help to have it pointed out aloud, nor did it improve her mood.

"It's not worth it, Marta," Dorchet said, vaguely enough to pass it off as a comment on her response to Loa, but pointedly enough that she knew what he was really referring to. "Just try to relax and enjoy yourself. What's a club good for, if not a good time?"

_Nothing, that's what,_ she thought, and stood.

"Where are you going?" Dorchet looked surprised, and almost a little hurt – after all, he had only just sat down with her.

"Out. I've had enough of this place for one night. I'll see you guys later." And without waiting for a reply, she walked out, leaving behind the smoke and music and flickering lights for the cleaner, fresher night air. Normally, she liked the Devil's Nest well enough, but tonight it had suddenly become oppressive, claustrophobic – uncomfortable. Outside, at least, there was room to breathe.

"Nice out tonight, isn't it?" said a familiar voice behind her; unable to suppress a jerk of surprise, she only just barely managed to keep herself from whirling about, to face the source of the sound. "Sorry, did I scare you?" She didn't have to look back to see the amusement in his eyes; she could imagine it perfectly well.

"Of course not," she replied, and saw him move to stand beside her out of the corner of her eye. But she kept her eyes ahead, focused on the night sky, even if her thoughts were elsewhere. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thought it seemed like a good time for a walk," said Greed with a shrug. "Care to join me?"

She didn't answer aloud, but when he began to move she followed, and thought she saw a smile of satisfaction flicker across his face. "Thought you had company." She hadn't meant to say it, but she couldn't help it. Curiosity (and maybe a _little_ envy) had gotten the better of her.

Again, he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. "I do. They'll be there when I get back. Just wanted to make sure you were okay, doll. I saw you broke that glass. Didn't hurt yourself, did ya?" His tone didn't match his words; for all appearances, he wasn't really concerned, just nosy.

But she wanted to believe the best of him; she thought maybe, just maybe, he cared about her – about all of them, even though he said he was only out to help himself. He insisted that he was his own number one priority, but she had seen him stick by the others, even herself, in fights; she had seen his reluctance to leave any of them open to injury, when the possibility arose that someone might get hurt. "I'm fine," she said shortly.

"No, you're not," he said, his voice still lacking anything resembling sincerity; yet his hand reached out and seized her arm, and he forced her to face him. His expression was as cool and calm as ever, but his grip was ironclad. "What's the matter, Marta? Something bothering you?"

Since she could not look away from him, she instead tried to look _through_ him, as if he wasn't there at all. It almost worked. "Nothing."

He stared at her for a moment, his expression unchanging. When the moment had passed, he let her go, put his hands back in his pockets, and continued walking as if nothing had happened. "All right, if you say so, doll."

Determined to follow his example and act just as nonchalant, Marta matched his pace, her expression flat and her lips a thin, flat line of affected apathy. "What do we do next, Greed?"

He started to make a joke, assuming she had meant it generally – but quickly changed his mind when he realized she had been referring to his schemes. "Never off the job, are ya?" he remarked.

She looked at him.

He sighed. "Look, I don't know yet. I took the night off, for once – and I'm thinking you should do the same. You could use a break; it might put you in a better mood, for one thing."

She rolled her eyes. She knew better than to believe him; no matter how much he seemed to cut loose, she knew his grand plan – whatever it was; no one seemed to know but him – was never far from his thoughts; even while he partied, he schemed. She knew him well enough to know that much, at least. "Is it dangerous?"

"You don't let a thing get by, do you, kid?" She winced, but he didn't seem to notice. It had been a long time since she'd thought of herself as a _kid_, and she didn't like being called one now, not after she'd come so far. "Look, I know you like being on top of things and all that – but here's an order for you. _Take the night off._ Seriously. You'll work yourself to death at this rate." He chuckled softly.

She didn't answer, and he sighed again. For awhile, they walked in silence.

Once again, it was he that started the conversation. "What's with you guys, anyway?" She looked at him in surprise, for once not understanding what he meant. "How come you all stuck with me this far? Usually it doesn't last this long."

Marta started; for the first time, it occurred to her that, considering Greed's age, this was probably not the first group he had been head of. From what he was saying to her now, it sounded as though they hadn't been very loyal – but then, perhaps he hadn't always been the way he was now, either. "You're a good leader. You're good at making plans, and you always see them through. And you look out for the team."

"I've told you before, I'm out for myself," he corrected. "Not to burst your bubble, kid, but I thought I made that clear from the start. You guys are only good to me because you help me get what I want."

"That's not true," she said, before she could stop herself. "I've seen you stick up for the guys; I've seen you take a hit when you should've turned and run. Like it or not, you _do_ care." She stopped, as suddenly as she had begun, embarrassed and perturbed by her outburst.

Greed stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide and his eyebrows arched up in astonishment. At length, the expression faded, and she wasn't sure whether the one that replaced it was kind, or simply amused. "Well, what good would henchmen be to a mastermind if he let them all get killed? You're not expendable, doll – none of you are, not with your abilities. You're not just a pack of useless _humans_, a dime a dozen. You're one of a kind, each of you – an advantage for me, and one I'm not about to waste. Besides, unlike you guys, I can afford to die now and then." He grinned.

Marta wasn't sure what to say. He _seemed _to be complimenting them, even if he didn't mean it to sound that way. _One of a kind…_ "You've gone it alone before. You don't really need us; even if we do give you the advantage, you'd get along just fine without us."

His hand reached up, and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. She froze. "Maybe, maybe not." He moved closer. "But I think I prefer the help. Besides, there's benefits to having friends like you guys."

"Greed…"

He leaned forward, and their lips met, and her next words were lost, obliterated the instant he touched her. His kiss was firm, but not forceful; enthusiastic, but not overwhelming. His hand moved from her face to the back of her neck, to prevent her pulling away. At first, she did not move, the ability to respond temporarily arrested by the shock to her system. Then she tried to push away, but he only deepened the kiss, until at last she returned the gesture – and then, just as she began to lean into him, he moved away, his warmth replaced with the empty, cool night air as he stepped back.

She gaped, her emotions caught between bewilderment, hurt, and anger. "You… why? Why did you do that?"

He tilted his head, smiling at her. "Have you forgotten _again_?" He touched a hand to his forehead in mock exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's my nature.

"I want it all."

She couldn't answer; could hardly breathe, much less speak. When she failed to reply, he shrugged, shoved his hands back into his pockets, and continued on his way, whistling to himself. "See you later, doll," he called over his shoulder, and disappeared into the gloom.

That night replayed itself in Marta's mind over and over again, and she analyzed and over-analyzed it again each time, trying to puzzle out just what was going on in Greed's head. They never spoke of it again, nor acknowledged it with even the most veiled innuendos. If he ever thought about it, he never showed it, and she had determined to do the same. As far as they were concerned, it had never happened.

Except it had, and for many a night after that, she relived it, sometimes exactly as it had happened, other times with a different, more satisfactory ending.

Even now, as she sat beside the empty armor suit who called himself "Al," waiting for Greed to come back, she couldn't help remembering. After all, it hadn't been that long ago – only a week or so, at most. It was still fresh in her mind, both the memory and the emotions. "He's been gone too long," she said, worry and weariness straining her voice. "I'm going after him." She stood up.

"No, wait!" Al cried, clumsily getting to his own feet in a hurry. "Greed told you to stay here! And he told me to watch out for you! You can't go!" He reached out for her arm, but she slipped out of reach in a quick, snakelike motion, her eyes glued on the direction she knew Greed had gone.

"I don't care! I'm going, with or without you!" She set off at a brisk walk, her pace quickening with every step as the anxiety that had plagued her all night slowly sharpened into a dreadful certainty that something, somehow, had gone horribly wrong. Perhaps she was already too late.

She broke into a run.

"Wait! Come back!" called Al behind her, and she heard the loud clanging of his empty metal body as he chased after her. "Marta!" Before long, however, the noise faded; she lost him within moments, her lighter, faster form leaving his large, clunky armor in the dust.

Any number of things could have kept her from going; for one strange moment of clarity, she imagined another universe, another time and place, where Al had managed to stop her, where Greed had convinced her to stay away, where something, anything, had kept her from going to him. It was more luck than fate that she was able to chase him now; whether it was good or bad luck, she could not yet say. She ran harder, ignoring the stiffness in her legs from having spent the whole night still and awake, thinking only that if she was fast enough, strong enough, she might get there in time. _In time for what?_ she asked herself, but she had no answer.

Suddenly, there it was, up ahead: a house, in the middle of the woods. This was where he had gone, without a doubt; she didn't know why, but at the moment, she didn't care. He was there, and that was all she needed to know. Something within the house, in the main room, it looked like, flashed blue. Her eyes widened in recognition: alchemy. What was going on?

"If it's that Elric kid, I swear I'll kill him," she muttered to herself as she ran on towards the house.

Upon reaching the front double-doors, she turned, delivering a solid kick to the lock with enough force to break it completely off; the door swung open with ease, and she was standing inside in an instant, her eyes already searching for the Ultimate Shield.

"Let's start," said Greed's voice, down the hall.

A brief glow of blue light lit up the door at the end of the hall. "Let's finish!" snapped another voice; sure enough, it sounded like Edward Elric.

"Dammit!" Marta swore, and took off down the hall.

She burst through the door just in time to see Ed clapping his hand to Greed's stomach, performing an alchemic reaction she couldn't pretend to understand – but she recognized it for what it was, and that alone was enough to alarm her. "Greed!"

"What the–?" Greed spared a glance in her direction, clearly appalled at her presence there; Ed, however, was focused on one and only one thing at a time, and he slashed out with his blade.

Only because of Greed's superior reflexes was he able to move before more damage could be inflicted; still, even as it was, the injury was severe. Marta gasped; she had never seen anything pierce the Ultimate Shield, much less inflict such a serious wound. "I thought I told you to stay away!" Greed shouted, dodging a second blow from the Elric boy with less ease than before.

"I came to help you!" she snapped back, wanting to run forward but unsure of how to intervene successfully. Edward clearly had the advantage, and although she didn't understand how, she knew it was only a matter of time before he won. From the looks of the slice to Greed's stomach, it wasn't a fight they could both walk away from. "Edward, stop!"

But either he did not hear her, or would not listen; instead, as Greed flipped over his head to avoid yet another attack, he spun around, blade drawn and ready. Instants before it happened, Marta saw what he intended – and before even she herself knew what she was doing, she moved to prevent it, in any way she could.

Launching herself forward, her arms snaked out – gifts from the animal she'd been transmuted with – one reaching for the oncoming blade, the other lunging out to shove Greed out of the way. Both met their marks; Greed fell with a grunt backwards against the wall, and the other hand successfully brought the blade up short, by making itself a replacement for the original target.

Automail pierced live flesh, and Marta screamed.

Ed's eyes went wide; panicked, he jerked his arm back, and Marta sank to her knees, cradling her arm with her good hand as both limbs retracted back to normal lengths. "What the hell did you do that for?!" Ed exclaimed, his voice hoarse from exertion and horror.

"Marta." Greed got up slowly, healing his own injuries with an effort as he moved towards her.

She could not answer; it was all she could do just to clamp her teeth together to keep any sounds of distress from escaping her lips. She had to be strong for him, she had to be strong…

"I didn't want to hurt you," Ed was saying; it was hard to focus on his voice through the fog of pain dulling her senses. "Why did you do that?"

"I – couldn't – let you – kill him," she said with an effort, her eyes squeezed shut and her body trembling. She felt Greed standing not two feet from her; she couldn't imagine the look on his face, couldn't fathom what he must have been thinking.

"What are you talking about?" Ed knelt down beside her, grimacing at the sight of her mangled hand. "I wouldn't have killed him! Don't you know what he is?"

"A… homunculus…" she said slowly.

"You knew?" Ed was beyond incredulous. "You knew what he was and you still tried to help him?"

"What he is," she replied, forcing her eyes open again to look him straight in the eye, "is my _friend_. He is a friend to all of us; I couldn't just let him go off on his own like that."

"Even though I specifically told you not to?" They looked over at Greed, who wore a strange expression of mixed fury, amusement, and – gratitude? "I told you to stay with the tin can, Marta."

"I know, but I couldn't… I had to make sure…"

"Wait a minute, your _friend_?" Ed looked back and forth from one to the other, astounded by what he was hearing. "But he's a homunculus! He's not…"

"Human?" Greed grinned, baring his sharpened teeth. "Got that right, kid."

She gritted her teeth. "Maybe not… but he's a better man than most so-called _humans_ are. And I _am_ human – which is why I couldn't let him die."

Ed was pale and visibly shaking. "But he hasn't got a soul! He doesn't care about you, or anyone else besides himself!"

"Yes he does!" Marta snapped; her own face was losing color as the blood drained from her hand. "He cares about us. I've seen it!" She got to her feet with an effort, swaying slightly, but she kept her balance resolutely, refusing to fall a second time. "It doesn't matter. Whether you believe me or not about him, believe this: if you want him, you'll have to get through me." She stepped between them, taking a fighting stance.

Behind her, she heard Greed shift his weight as he temporarily retracted his Shield. "What is _with_ you guys?" His voice was full of awe; in spite of herself, Marta turned to look at him. He looked stricken; for once, he seemed completely at a loss. "First Dorchet and Loa, and now you?" She swallowed hard, trying not to think about what fates her other friends had most likely met. "Why do you care? Why do any of you care what happens to me?"

She stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind. "_Why?_ You're our friend. What other reason do we need?"

"You really think that?" A smile tugged at his lips, for once sincere and for the most part without irony. "You think of me as a friend? Huh. Imagine that. I guess I'm kind of fond of you guys too, Marta." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost awkward, in spite of his rakish grin.

She almost smiled back.

"That's all well and good, but what about Al? Where's my brother, Greed?" Edward interrupted, his bewilderment obvious but his concern for his little brother even more obviously still his priority.

Greed hesitated, as if pondering the situation, perhaps considering whether or not to answer. "You still haven't beaten me, kid," he said at length.

"Greed, don't be an idiot!" Marta exclaimed, interrupting him quickly before he incensed the boy further. She turned to Ed. "Al's back in the woods. We let him go."

"What?" More bewilderment; Ed couldn't take much more of this. "But I thought…"

"We homunculi… We're born when an alchemist tries to create life." Greed leaned down, picked up his coat, shrugging it on with affected nonchalance. "We are weakened when we are close to the remains of whomever it was the alchemist tried to resurrect. That's the homunculi's weak point. That's how we can be killed, understand? And not come back."

Ed and Marta stared back at him, dumbfounded, as he spoke, acting for all the world as if he was discussing the weather, rather than the proper way to murder others of his kind. "But – why are you telling me this?"

"So you can beat them, Ed." With a flourish, Greed replaced his mirrored shades on the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes and the expressions within them behind the sunglasses. "They sealed me for so long… You can't let them stay in control."

Ed shook his head. "But they're… like you…"

"I'm greedy as hell, only out for myself – she always said it would be the death of me." He flashed another smile.

"Not yet, anyway," muttered Marta.

"They pull the strings," continued Greed. "Now – cut them. I'm counting on you, kid." Turning from them both, he headed for the door.

"Wait – where are you going?" Ed exclaimed; Marta hurried to follow.

"Out into the wide world. Away from here. Why, care to join me?"

"You act like you're a dead man walking. Why did you tell me all of that? Why are you acting like it's up to me to beat them?"

Greed paused at the door; Marta halted a few steps short. "Because, sooner or later, she's gonna be right. And I don't want to die without knowing _someone_ knows what I know. Someone's got to kill them, Ed." He glanced back one final time. "I'm rooting for you, kid." With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Ed standing petrified in the middle of the room. Marta followed Greed without looking back.

"What do you mean, sooner or later she's gonna be right?" Marta demanded as they walked, ripping some material from her shirt to create a makeshift bandage for her hand. "Who are you talking about?"

"The one who controls us – them," he amended quickly. "And she _is_ right. She's got the others out looking for me, trying to get me killed. She's the reason Ed was almost the death of me back there; those bones on the table used to be mine. If I die now, I stay dead for good."

"Then don't die," Marta said.

He laughed. "Easier said than done, doll. _They_ won't stop until they get me out of the way, and _I_ won't stop until I get what I want – or die trying."

"Don't say that. I said I won't let you die, and I meant it." She paused. "The others… Loa… Dorchet… are they… did they…" He glanced at her, and she forced the words out at last. "Are they dead?"

Greed nodded grimly. "Those two they faced, Lust and Gluttony – they're homunculi. There's no way they let Dorchet and Loa escape with their lives. They're not the prisoner-taking types, either." His eyes were dry, but his face was a mask of regret; he was too tired to pretend not to care.

Marta clamped her teeth together, setting her jaw and willing herself not to let a single tear fall. They were her best friends, aside from Greed; out of the entire gang, only she and he were left. It was a hard truth to accept, but she knew it was foolish to waste time and tears on lives which neither could restore. At least she still had Greed. "They stayed to protect you – and me."

"I know. I don't get it, but – I remember. And I'm grateful to them for it." He would not say more about them, but he didn't need to. She could hear all the unspoken words as clear as day. At length, however, he spoke again. "You saved me, you know that?"

"Of course I know," she retorted, gesturing to her hand.

"Oh, right," Greed grinned sheepishly. "Well – thanks, do… Marta."

She looked at him, pleased but a little unsettled by his unusual display of emotion. It wasn't much for most people, but for him, it was as if he were having a complete emotional breakdown right in front of her. "You're welcome."

They walked on.

By definition, homunculi were artificial – living dolls with human faces, but no soul. They could think for themselves, make choices, and act on those decisions, but they could not feel, they could not regret – they could not love.

Yet here she was, walking side-by-side with a real-life homunculus, whose actions were clearly motivated by emotion, whose face clearly expressed an array of feelings, even regret; who, no doubt, felt love – that of a friend, at the very least.

When referring to himself, he never mentioned being "created" – he had been "born." Perhaps this could be applied to souls as well – perhaps, though a soul could not be "created," a soul could still be "born" in time. Just as Greed had been born out of the ashes of another man, perhaps a soul could be born within him as well, out of the feelings he could learn to feel, and the heart that did not beat but could still bleed.

Marta wondered if perhaps he didn't need the Philosopher's Stone to become human, after all.


End file.
